After an initial exchange of courtesies, Vasconcelos said:

“I was just about to write and ask you to come.”

“Why’s that?” asked Gomes.

“So that we could talk about . . . about the marriage.”

“Ah, is there a problem?”

“I’ll explain.”

Gomes grew more serious, foreseeing some grave difficulty.

Vasconcelos spoke first.

“There are certain circumstances,” he said, “that need to be set out very clearly, so that there can be no room for misunderstanding . . .”

“I agree entirely.”

“Do you love my daughter?”

“How often do I have to tell you? Yes, I do.”

“And you will love her whatever the circumstances?”

“Yes, unless those circumstances might affect her happiness.”

“Let’s be frank, then, since, as well as the friend you have always been, you are now almost my son. For us to be discreet would be decidedly indiscreet.”

“Indeed,” said Gomes.

“I’ve just found out that my financial affairs are in a parlous state. I have overspent and am basically ruined, and it would be no exaggeration to say that I am now poor.”

Gomes did his best not to look shocked.

“Adelaide,” Vasconcelos went on, “has no fortune, not even a dowry. All I am giving you is a young woman, although I can promise you that she’s a real angel and will make an excellent wife.”

Vasconcelos fell silent, his eyes fixed on Gomes, as if, by scrutinizing his face he might discover what was going on in his heart.

Gomes should have responded at once, but, for a few minutes, a deep silence reigned.

Finally, he spoke.

“I appreciate your frankness and I will be equally frank.”

“I would expect no less.”

“It was certainly not money that prompted my love for your daughter; I trust you will do me the justice of believing that I am above such base considerations. Besides, on the day when I asked you for the hand of my beloved, I believed myself to be rich.”

“Believed?”

“Yes, only yesterday, my lawyer told me the true state of my financial affairs.”

“Not good, eh?”

“Oh, if only it were as simple as that. But it seems that for the last six months I have been existing thanks entirely to my lawyer’s extraordinary efforts to scrape together some money, because he couldn’t bring himself to tell me the truth. And I only found out yesterday!”

“I see.”

“Imagine the despair of a man who believes himself to be wealthy and, one day, discovers he has nothing!”

“I don’t need to imagine it!”

“I came here today feeling happy, because any happiness I still have resides in this house; but the truth is that I’m poised on the edge of an abyss. Fate has chosen to punish us both at the same moment.”

After this explanation, to which Vasconcelos listened unblinking, Gomes tackled the thorniest part of the matter.